


The Walk Home

by Ailelie, Cinaed



Series: Enduring Legends [24]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Conversations, F/M, First Date, Holding Hands, No season 4 spoilers, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 15:47:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailelie/pseuds/Ailelie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Tuesday, December 20 2011</em></p><p>In which Arthur walks Gwen home after their first date and they talk. (Arthur/Gwen)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Walk Home

_Tuesday, December 20 2011_

"This is weird, isn't it?" Gwen asked when their conversation about the movie had lulled. She readjusted her scarf, her hands playing with the fringe nervously. "Us, on a date, I mean."

"Why? Because we were marr, I mean, together before?" Arthur looked at her, flashing a wry grin. "That's not weird."

"No?"

"King Arthur may have loved Guinevere, but _I'm_ interested in Gwendolyn." The back of his fingers brushed against and caught on hers, tightening like a knot. "Tell me about yourself."

Gwen swung her hand experimentally, to see if he'd loosen or keep hold. "I'm not sure where to start."

"Tell you what—" his hand turned against hers, pressing palm to palm "—20 questions."

"Okay," Gwen said, drawing out the second syllable. This felt like an Elle-sort of idea.

"Favorite color." His arm bumped against her shoulder.

"Yellow. You?" She bumped back, smiling.

"Red. Favorite season."

Gwen held out her free hand to the wind. "Winter."

"Hm, summer for me. Favorite movie?"

"Are you only going to ask me what my favorites are?" Gwen stopped, pulling him so he faced her. To the left was her street.

"What should I be asking you?" He stepped in. The streetlamp backlit him, turning his blond hair golden.

Gwen stepped around him, untangling her hand from his. She walked backward, across her street. "I don't know." She shrugged. "What I do? Or, what I care about?"

"All right." Arthur jogged across the street to catch up with her. "We'll pretend I don't already know the answer to this question, but Gwen, what do you do?"

"I am a doctor. Second year of my residency. And you?"

"A doctor. Wow." She rolled her eyes at his feigned surprise. Arthur touched his chest. "Me? I help run my father's company."

"The charter schools Ambrose talks about?" Ambrose never explained too much about what he did, save to complain. She knew the company was for-profit and managed several schools along the coast, but that was all.

"Yes." Arthur made a face. "Camelot Charter Schools."

Gwen laughed. "Has Ambrose said anything yet?"

"No, which, honestly, is worse. That means he either hasn't realized and so will blurt it out at the worst possible time, or he's planning something." Arthur shuddered.

"Always bad when Ambrose is plotting. He gets a _little_ caught up in the details." She remembered visiting once and finding Adam's living room a horrible mess, with Ambrose occupied by the book shelves with his laptop. Apparently he had been spring cleaning, when he'd decided that Adam needed an electronic record of all the books in the house.

Arthur snorted. "A little? He planned a party for me once. It was supposed to be a surprise, but you know how he is with secrets."

"Go on," Gwen said, smiling in anticipation.

"So, we're on our way when he realizes he'd forgotten the candles."

"Oh, no."

"Yes, so we stop at a grocery store."

"Meanwhile everyone else is still waiting." Gwen caught Arthur's hand and squeezed gently once he slid his fingers between hers. She tugged, guiding him around the corner.

"Yes, but worse, he tells me he just remembered it was his turn to bring breakfast to his morning seminar the next day and he needed to buy ingredients to make cinnamon rolls."

"How was he supposed to fit candles into that?"

"Oh, his lie is worse than that. My birthday is late December. We don't have classes."

"Oh, Ambrose."

"I point this out to him and he tells me it is a study group for the spring semester, as if I would honestly believe that." Arthur rolled his eyes. "Anyway, while he's trying to pick out the right candles while pretending to be shopping for cinnamon and stuff, he must have looked suspicious, because we soon had a tail."

Gwen laughed. "And then?"

"Well, he tried to slip some candles into his pocket so I wouldn't see them, prompting the grocery store guy to come over and ask--" Arthur affected a deep, belly tone "--'How are you boys tonight? Anything I can help you with?' Except," he added in his own voice again, "he wasn't smiling. Of course Ambrose still thinks I haven't caught on yet."

"You didn't." She bumped into his arm. Arthur grinned down, unapologetically.

"Sorry to say, but I played dumb. Ambrose kept tripping over his words and refusing to unpocket the candles, which made the grocery guy think he was doing something far greater than snatching some birthday candles. So we were taken to a break room."

"Arthur, that's horrible."

"I'm horrible? You haven't even heard the worst part."

"I'm almost afraid to ask."

"After we get everything straightened out and Ambrose apologetically tells me about my surprise party, for which we are, at that point, a half hour late, we go ahead to party. In my defense, I had texted a friend while Ambrose was still trying to pick candles, so they knew we'd be a while."

"That's good at least."

"But we get to the party, with the candles, and they pretend to surprise me and I pretend to be surprised, and we're finally ready to eat the cake, only—"

"Oh no."

"No cake."

Gwen pressed her face into Arthur's arm, muffling her laughter. "He didn't." Arthur loosed his hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"It was still at the bakery counter at the grocery store. My friend never said anything, because he figured if we were there getting candles, we were also getting the cake."

"So you didn't get a birthday cake." She looked up at him.

"Nope." Then, meeting her gaze, he added, "We did find some hotdogs though."

"That's horrible."

" _That's_ Ambrose with a plan."

"He won't like you sharing that story, will he?" Gwen leaned her head against Arthur. They walked more slowly like this, but she didn't mind. The corner up ahead was still too close.

"Probably not. So what's he told you about me?"

"Vain, aren't you?"

"Me, vain? Of course not. I just know Ambrose has a way of exaggerating. I want to clear up misunderstandings." Gwen hid a smile at his blustery tone.

"You don't have to worry."

"Yeah, yeah." He waved his free hand dismissively. "What's he told you?"

"Well, there was this one story about a donkey." She let her tone trail off.

Arthur made a face. "Of course he told you that. Look, no matter what he's said, he did not tell me to pick up a pin-the-tail game. He just told me to 'get the donkey.' It was an honest mistake."

"Sure."

"What else did he tell you?"

"Do you really want to talk about Ambrose?" Gwen pulled out from under his arm and looked back at him, brows raised.

"No. What was that other question you said I should ask?" Arthur grabbed her hand, pulling her close again.

"What I care about," she prompted him.

"Right. Gwen, what do you care about?"

"Hm." Gwen looked up at the bare branches of the trees lining the sidewalk and considered the question. "My father, of course. My friends—" Arthur opened his mouth, but she rushed on, anticipating his query "—and yes, that includes you. Healing people. My mother—" her throat caught. Arthur squeezed her hand, and Gwen breathed, starting again "—she was an E.R. nurse. She used to tell me stories about people who'd come in with their whole lives horribly changed in an instant, and she helped them. She told me that it was her job to help make possibly the worst day of someone's life a little less awful. I've always wanted to do the same, to help where I can. And, besides, I love understanding how the body works and being able to find and fix what's wrong inside. I help people get better. I really can't imagine doing anything else." She shrugged.

"Guess you're in the right profession then."

"Guess so. What about you? What do you care about, Arthur Penn?" She stopped at the corner, turning to face him.

"The Ninth," he corrected. "Can't forget my numbers tying me to my proud lineage." Gwen was about to ask why he sounded so bitter, but he held up a hand, stopping the words in her throat. "No, sorry. What I care about—" he trailed off, looking at the street and cars passing by. His hand slipped from hers. Gwen waited. "I hate ignorance," he said finally, looking back at her. He started gesturing with both hands. He was like Ambrose, it seemed, unable to keep still when worked up over something. "I hate adults getting so tied up in appearances and how a thing looks that they forget about the actual people involved. Education isn't my passion, I admit, but I grew up around it. So I know how kids can get screwed over by, not just unions, but testing companies, governments, teachers, and even other management organizations like ours. I just, I hate it." He stilled in front of her and mimicked her earlier shrug. "So here I am."

Gwen stepped forward, pressing her hand against his arm and smiling up at him. "You're a good man."

Arthur flushed. "I try," he said, looking and pulling away. Gwen stepped back. A second later, Arthur turned back to her, his hand outreached for hers, and he was smiling again. "So second year of your residency. Have you decided what you'll do after?" They resumed walking.

"Not really," Gwen said, accepting the change of subject. "I'd like to stay in the city, or possibly move back to my hometown. It'll depend on where I get a fellowship."

"Fellowship?"

"I want to sub-specialize in Critical Care. That means two-to-three more years learning before I can become an attending. The hospital here has a fellowship, but it is competitive. There's a program in New York I wouldn't mind."

Arthur let out a short bark of laughter. "So, when you say 'not really' you actually mean 'quite a bit.'"

"I'm just looking. I want to come back here afterward, I mean, if I went anywhere. I like it here."

"And I like that you like it here." He winced. "Oh, god, that sounded cheesy."

"No," she argued, on the verge of laughing. "It was sweet."

"Sweet," he repeated in a disgusted tone. "That's almost worse."

"Is it really so bad if I think you're sweet?" she asked, still amused.

"No. Just don't tell Ambrose. Or Gavin."

"Oh, yes, we must protect your pride."

"No. I just know they'd make a joke of it."

"Fine, but you have to tell me the donkey story."

"Agreed." He squeezed her hand. "Next time."

Gwen glanced sideways at him, but he was very intent on the cars parked alongside the road. "All right," she agreed, softly. "Next time."

He looked at her and smiled. Then, glancing over her shoulder, added, "Oh, this is your street, isn't it?"

Gwen sighed. "Yes, it is. Again."

"Again?"

"We walked past it once on the other side." She gestured toward the corner down the street.

"You should have said something."

"I was enjoying the conversation." Gwen looked around the dark street. A couple houses had Christmas lights twinkling, but it was close enough to midnight that most were dark. "It is rather late though."

"Right." They started walking down the street. "Remind me, which building is yours again?"

"The green lamp post." Gwen pointed to the yard ahead of them. Arthur walked her down the short path to the porch and up the chipped-paint wooden stairs. He let go of her hand as they reached her door.

"So," he said, both hands in his pockets. "Here we are then."

"Here we are." Gwen slipped her key into the lock, but didn't turn it. "I had a very good time, Arthur."

"Me too. And maybe next time we can get a meal together. Gavin said there's a bistro you like?"

"I'd like that. Sorry about the mess today and having to push back and everything." She sketched out an apology with one hand.

Arthur shook his head. "It's fine. I'm just glad we were able to go out."

"Me too. So, I guess, good-night, then." Her hand played over her key, but she still did not turn it. She looked up at Arthur, wondering how to broach the idea of a goodnight kiss.

"Good-night." Arthur bent down, pressing his lips to hers. Gwen wrapped one hand up behind his neck, her fingers brushing against his hair, letting him know that she wanted to kiss him. He opened his mouth to hers and--

 _\--Arthur pulled away, his fingers brushing her cheek as he sat back and slipped off his shirt. Gwen, propped up on her elbows, bit her lip. "I have been waiting so long for this," he confided, bending back down over her. He fumbled one-handed with the ties of her gown while nipping at her neck, kissing down to her breast. She grasped his shoulder, his skin so hot beneath her hand, and--_

Gwen gasped, pulling back. She bumped into the door behind her. "Did you?"

He was breathing as hard as she. His hands flexing and tightening over her shoulders. "Yes," he ground out. Then, resting his forehead against hers, he added, "I hate this. Part of me wants to--"

"I know. Me too." She could still feel the weight of him, the heat of his tongue through her nightdress and the cooler air after. "But we barely know each other," she said, more to remind herself than him.

"Right." He took a measured step back, his hands sliding slowly down her arms until he held each of her hands. Her eyes fluttered shut at the caress. "I like you, Gwen."

She opened her eyes. "I like you, too."

"I don't want to screw this up." He looked both so very serious and so very frustrated.

"We won't. The dreams--"

"Aren't us, I know. Still, they're--"

"Something to look forward to," Gwen said. Her face was burning, but she forced herself to maintain eye contact.

Arthur grinned softly. "That's not all I'm looking forward to," he said. "I want to get to know you better, Dr. Gwendolyn Smith." He raised her hands, kissing each as if they were great treasures. "Good night." He stepped back, letting go.

Gwen turned the key in her door, opening it enough that a line of yellow light stretched over the old wooden porch. "Goodnight," she said, slipping indoors. Arthur didn't turn away until her lock clicked. She watched him walk away from the house and down the street. Gwen continued upstairs to her apartment, her heart still pounding and body still aching to call Arthur back and see where their dreams would take them. It took her two tries just to unlock her apartment door. Gwen leaned back against her door, forcing herself to take long, calming breaths. Tonight, she decided, was a perfect night to try that new bath bomb Elle had given her. A warm bath was exactly what she needed.

**Author's Note:**

> This section was written by Ailelie and beta-read by Cinaed.


End file.
